


In Charge

by Gay Romance Book Club (TheRealFailWhale)



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Lovers Quarrel, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexy Times, argument, bossy pants pierce, commander pierce - Freeform, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21839881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealFailWhale/pseuds/Gay%20Romance%20Book%20Club
Summary: When Hawkeye is left in charge while Potter is away, he finds himself in a spat with BJ. Takes place during 7.1 "Commander Pierce"
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 5
Kudos: 59





	In Charge

**Author's Note:**

> dialogue taken *extensively* from 7.1 "Commander Pierce," with additional scenes added

Things were not going well. They hadn’t gone well since Potter had told Hawkeye the day before that he, Hawkeye, would be temporary CO while Potter went off for a meeting with General Imrie. Hawkeye knew he was not built for command. Hell, he wasn’t built to be in the army, but for whatever reason no one seemed to care what he thought he was built for.

So Hawk had spent the morning--the interminably long morning that had begun at 0600--avoiding paperwork, only to find himself on the phone to ICorps when Father Mulcahy insisted they needed blankets. He’d heard Radar’s little huffs behind him as he got absolutely nowhere with Supply and wound up having to do paperwork anyway. 

Klinger, whom Hawkeye liked and found amusing most of the time, was grating on his nerves with his constant plays for a Section 8, which he refused to believe Hawkeye couldn’t give him.

And now here he was, up to his wrists in some kid’s stomach in OR, as Margaret, Charles, and BJ went back and forth on the subject of Charles’ sinuses. At last, he broke into the chatter.

“Will you all shut up?” he asked, trying and failing to keep the demanding tone out of his voice.

“Ah, another county heard from,” said BJ dryly, glancing up to meet Hawkeye’s annoyed expression.

“Can we be serious? I want it quiet in here.” Hawkeye gritted his teeth, hating the way he sounded. Like Frank.

“All right, knock off the loud bleeding.” If Hawkeye thought BJ’s words sounded familiar, it was probably because he’d said them before in response to someone else complaining about OR chatter. That awareness didn’t help his mood.

“Come on, Hunnicut,” Hawkeye snapped, surprising even himself with his use of BJ’s surname. “I got enough to worry about with a room full of wounded and a camp full of headaches.”

“Not to mention a couple of CCs of self-pity.”

Hawk bridled at the coldness in Beej’s voice. “Look, if you think it’s so easy, you do it,” he spat, sewing into soft, pink muscle.

“Why? You’re doing so well.”

“At least I’m trying! Meantime, you stay in the backseat where you belong!”

A loud chorus of snark followed his words. Hawk looked up in the silence that followed and saw Beej watching him with eyes that were normally crinkled in a smile. He tried to say with his eyes that he didn’t mean it, that he was sorry, but the other man just returned to the wounds he was treating.

The stinging in Hawk’s eyes wasn’t from belly fumes.

* * *

That night, Radar didn’t let him leave the office until very late. It was close to midnight before he made it back to the Swamp. He found BJ sitting in his chair with a drink in his hand. There was a glass next to Hawkeye’s bed, filled to the brim.

“Where’s Charles?” Hawkeye asked, jerking his head to their bunkie’s empty corner.

“He went to drown his sinuses in the shower,” Beej replied, not looking up from his gin.

Hawk gave a nod that Beej couldn’t see and sat on his bunk, taking a long draw from his glass.

“Ah, that’s horrible,” he commented, looking across at his friend.

“Long day at the office?” BJ finally-- _ finally _ \--said.

“Man, you wouldn’t believe all the paperwork Radar had me signing,” Hawkeye replied, leaping at the offered conversation like it was a life preserver. “He might have adopted me for all I know.”

“He’ll make a great father.” BJ sipped his gin, still not looking at Hawkeye.

He set down his glass and got up to stand in front of Beej’s bowed head. “What’d I do?” he asked quietly, wanting to put his hand on the other man’s hair but guessing it wouldn’t be entirely welcome. Even after a long day, even with Charles gone and their tent empty like it so rarely was, he could pick up on the vibes BJ was giving off.

BJ looked up at last, meeting Hawk’s eyes. “Hunnicut?” was all he said. His mustache almost looked like it was drooping, though it wasn’t full enough for that, really.

“What?” It took a moment before Hawk remembered his words from the OR. He ran a hand through his hair and sank to his knees in front of BJ. “Look, Beej, I’m sorry, I didn’t--it’s this job, the stress is insane, and all I wanted was some quiet.” He lifted his hands to lay them on Beej’s knees, not asking for anything just hoping that his touch would tell the man more than he could say, but Beej held up a hand.

“Not tonight, Pierce,” he said quietly. The name stung, as it must have stung BJ when Hawkeye called him Hunnicut. “Better get some sleep, you’ve gotta get up early again tomorrow. Captain.”

And BJ set down his glass and laid back on his bunk, eyes closed. Hawkeye sat there for several moments, staring at his friend, his lover. Eventually, he dragged himself over to his own bunk and slumped into it, staring over at BJ in the dark.

* * *

The next day, BJ avoided Hawkeye. After Hawk had finished some of the more important paperwork that Radar pushed at him, he meandered to the mess tent for some coffee, but BJ was nowhere to be found. Sipping at the bitter liquid, he walked around the camp, ostensibly doing his job as CO to make sure everything was running alright, but really trying to find his friend. Where could a man over 6 ft hide? But thirty minutes later, he hadn’t found BJ, so he gave up and returned to the office to a ringing phone and no Radar.

Sighing, he answered. “4077 MASH, what’s up?” He could hear a jeep’s engine out in the compound and wondered what it was.

The voice on the other end sounded brittle. “To whom am I speaking?”

“To Captain Pierce, temporary CO of this madhouse, to whom am  _ I _ speaking?”

“This is Major Bridwell over at hill 403, I’m calling to give you boys a heads up: Wounded. Lots of ‘em, so brace for impact.”

Hawkeye felt his entire body tense at the thought of all those bodies passing under his knife. “Great,” he said sarcastically, hiding the fear that was jumping in his veins. “Thanks for the warning, major, we really appreciate it.” Without waiting for a reply, he thrust the phone back into its cradle. He gave himself a moment to screw his eyes shut and tug at his hair, hating everything about the last 28 hours.

Then he went to find Radar, who he tracked down hovering over a patient.

“This the man who just came in?” he asked, quickly looking the man over.

“Yes sir,” Radar confirmed, “This is Corporal Hough.”

The wounded man gave a small wave. “Hi, doc.”

“Hi,” Hawkeye replied vaguely, finishing up his assessment. “All right, get BJ on him right away, tell him to hurry. I just got a call, there’s a lot more casualties coming in. We’re gonna be very busy, very soon.”

He patted Hough’s leg and turned to leave, running over the duty roster in his head. Damn Charles for being sick right now.

“Uh, sir?” Radar’s voice was squeamish. “Excuse me, but about Captain Hunnicut…”

“Yeah, what about him?” Hawkeye asked, feeling his belly tense up with sudden fear.

“Don’t yell, but you know that jeep that just come in? It just went out again with BJ in it.” Radar looked as tense as Hawkeye felt, which surely wasn’t possible as he felt as though his stomach had just dropped out of his body.

“Why?” he managed to ask, throat thick.

Radar fidgeted, clipboard held tight to his chest. “Well, he went after his buddy,” he explained, gesturing at Hough. “He’s hurt real bad and they left him at the aid station, so he went to get him.”

Sudden rage filled Hawkeye, a feeling he’d never felt toward BJ before. “Well, what does he think we get in here, shaving nicks?”

Radar leapt to BJ’s defense. “Look, he didn’t know we had more casualties coming in!”

“Well, he would have if he’d checked with me first,” Hawkeye growled, feeling the anxiety and anger battling inside him. His best friend, his BJ, wasn’t here, and they were about to get inundated with dying kids. “This is great. Fantastic. Potter’s not here, BJ’s not here, Charles has  _ never _ been here, and I’m left holding the bag.” His eyes flicked to Hough, who’d watched their exchange in open mouthed silence. “Nothing personal,” he added, before leaving the room.

* * *

The next few hours were a blur. He had dim memories of the time, knowing he’d talked to Potter at some point, possibly with less decorum than usual, and the wounded flew by as he stitched and cut as fast as he could.

He felt drained. Drained in a way he shouldn’t be after just a few hours of surgery. He usually didn’t feel this tired unless he went over the 12 hour mark of cutting kids open.

“Well, doctor,” said Margaret’s voice, and he looked up to see her watching him with a grudging expression. “As much as I hate to admit it, you ran that siege pretty well.”

“We were great for half a staff,” Hawkeye said bitterly, feeling BJ’s absence now more than ever. After a rough run of surgery, they usually leaned on each other on the way back to the Swamp. “Damn that Hunnicut,” he swore quietly, knowing Margaret’s eyes were still on him. He looked up. “Where is he? Technically he’s AWOL, y’know? I could throw the book at him.” The rage he’d felt upon finding out BJ was gone crept back into him, a rage that was mixed healthily with anxiety for his friend.

Margaret gave a disbelieving chuckle. “I don’t believe what I’m hearing! Since when did you join the army?”

“Since it was left to me,” Hawk said wearily, the fight draining out of him as quickly as it had come.

“If only Frank Burns could see you now.” Hawk’s head shot up and he glared at Margaret as she smiled at him, with something close to pity. “It’s not so easy to play the clown when you have to run the circus, is it?”

“You finished, major?” Hawk said through gritted teeth. He didn’t want to hear any more of this.

“Just one more thing,” Margaret replied, crossing her arms. “Permission to say ‘It serves you right,’ sir?”

“Permission denied. Dismissed.”

Margaret gave him a salute before she walked away, leaving him to hang his head in the OR, wishing he knew if BJ was okay.

He heard a jeep in the compound. His wish might have just been granted. He hurried through the OR, tossing his scrubs into the laundry on his way out. 

Pulling up in a jeep was BJ, a beautiful, blonde, mustachioed,  _ alive _ BJ. There was a wounded kid with him, and BJ was handing out orders for prep as Hawkeye stalked up to him.

“How is he?” Hawk asked as the kid was carried into the OR.

“Severe internal bleeding,” BJ said, looking exhausted.

Hawkeye ran an eye over his friend, searching for injuries. “Are you okay?”

BJ gave a small grin as he nodded at him. “Yeah,” he reassured Hawk.

“Good. Now, what the hell were you doing?” he demanded, anxiety giving way to anger again. “You think you can just waltz out of here anytime you want?”

The smile dripped off of BJ’s face. “Not now, Hawk.” He made to follow the kid into OR.

“Don’t give me ‘not now’!” he retorted angrily, blocking BJ with his body. “While you were driving around playing hero we were trying to patch together a whole platoon with only two doctors!”

“Hey, I wasn’t joy riding,” BJ said defensively, staring Hawk in the face. “When I go up to an aid station, it’s because I’m needed.”

“You should’ve checked with me first,” Hawkeye insisted, not understanding why Beej couldn’t see what he was saying. “What you did was wrong!”

BJ’s face walled up and Hawkeye found his own fury being reflected back to him. “I did exactly what  _ Captain  _ Pierce would’ve done,” BJ said firmly. “I don’t know about  _ Commander  _ Pierce. I don’t even know Commander Pierce and I’m not sure I want to.”

Silence fell between them as Hawkeye stared at his friend, feeling the hurt swell inside him. He found he didn’t have an answer and BJ walked away, not giving him another glance.

* * *

The night found Hawkeye furiously signing and blotting paperwork, fully ready to be done with this bullshit, but not ready enough to go back to the Swamp where BJ waited. Or didn’t wait. Who knew.

“So that's how I look behind that desk. Yuck.”

Hawkeye looked up and saw Colonel Potter standing in the doorway, and his frustration came back.

“Ah, returning to the scene of the crime,” he said sarcastically. “I hereby give back your command, sir,” he went on, standing up from the chair that had seen too much of his butt the last two days. “If you're interested, I've prepared a detailed report on what you can do with it.”

“I'll wait till the movie comes out,” Potter said calmly, walking around to take his place at the desk. Potter’s calm only exacerbated Hawkeye’s discomfort and he cast about for something that might make Potter lash out in return.

“Have a good time with the boys in Seoul? Lots of parties? Generals jumping out of cakes?” Potter didn’t reply. “Well, while you were out gallivanting, I was cooped up here with the children. The young clerk with the paper fetish,” he said, gesturing at the piles of paper on the desk. “The Lebanese Machiavelli in a garter belt. Not to mention my roomie, who can't just wait for business to come in,” he declared angrily, feeling the pain of his falling out with BJ all over again. “He's gotta go out and find it.”

Infuriatingly, Potter just laughed and shook his head fondly. “They are a pesky bunch, aren't they?”

“If you let these people have dessert tonight, you're crazy!” Hawkeye seethed, resenting the way Potter just dismissed his anger.

“Can we water down that temper tantrum?” Potter asked, finally at least acknowledging that Hawkeye was upset. 

“I don't want to,” he said childishly. “I like being mad.”

“But you're not in charge anymore,” Potter pointed out, moving to unlock his liquor. “I am.”

Hawkeye brandished his finger angrily. “And that's another thing! You could have at least left me the key to the liquor cabinet!” 

“Are you kidding?” Potter laughed. “Look what you're like sober!” He poured out two glasses of scotch and handed one to Hawkeye, raising his own in a toast. “To a job well done.”

“Don't try to make up to me,” Hawkeye warned half-heartedly, downing his scotch in one gulp before slapping the glass down on the table.

“Want another?” Potter asked, pouring more scotch for him.

“I've wanted another for days,” Hawkeye said, feeling himself sink into a sulk.

“Down this one,” Potter tipped his glass to him. “We’ll take the bottle with us.”

Hawkeye stared blankly at Potter. “Where?”

“To your place. Hunnicutt could probably use a belt,” he said, heaving himself out of his chair and grabbing the bottle and another glass.

“No, thank you!” Hawk replied, rising to his feet and turning in a small circle. “One thing I've learned on this job: Never fraternize with your subordinates. It leads to insubordination.” And pain. And stress. And maybe a little heartache. 

“Will you relax? You're gonna throw a shoe,” Potter implored easily, heading to the swinging doors.

“You don't know what's been going on here!” he insisted, not budging after the colonel who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, don't I?” He shook his head again. “Come on. To the 4077th,” he said, raising the bottle of scotch as he pushed his way out of the office.

“They're all yours,” Hawkeye mumbled as he sullenly followed his commander. He dreaded the walk across the compound, short as it was. The Swamp’s flaps were down and he couldn’t see if BJ was even there. Might be easier if he wasn’t.

But when Potter pulled open the door to the swamp, Hawkeye heard him say, “Hi, Hunnicutt. I'm home.”

“Colonel, come on in!” came BJ’s reply, his voice sounding more welcoming than Hawk had heard since OR yesterday. He filed in behind Potter, not looking at his friend.

“Brought you a snort,” Potter said by way of explanation, settling down on Hawk’s bed and pouring one out for BJ.

“Hey, thanks,” Beej said, accepting the glass and avoiding Hawkeye’s eye.

“A little change from Uncle Ben's perverted rice juice,” Potter said with a laugh as he handed a glass to Hawkeye as well. With nowhere else to sit, he settled down on a stool across from BJ, staring into his scotch.

“Hm!” Potter grunted. “You two do know each other, don't you?” 

Boy, did they know each other. “Yeah, we've met, yeah,” Hawk muttered, taking a sip.

“Oh, yeah,” BJ agreed, throwing back his scotch as well. He chuckled. “Colonel, I'm glad you're back. I can't tell you how glad I am you're back.”

Hawkeye narrowed his eyes at the enthusiastic tone in Beej’s voice, finally meeting his friend’s eyes. “What's that supposed to mean?”

BJ met his glare with an innocent smile. “It means I'm glad he's back.”

“Down the hatch,” Potter ordered from Hawk’s bunk. Hawkeye took a perfunctory swallow and let out the words he’d been thinking.

“You just won't admit that going out there without telling me was the wrong thing to do,” he said accusingly as Potter leaned over to refill their glasses.

“I did what I thought was right,” Beej replied, accepting the refill from Potter. He pointed at Hawkeye. “You're only angry because somebody else made a decision.”

“It's my job to make the decisions,” he said loudly, annoyed that his friend was pointing out what might be an accurate flaw.

“ _ Was _ your job!” BJ cried in frustration.

“Up the rebels!” Potter ordered again, watching as they downed their scotches.

“I think the real reason you did it was to spite me,” Hawkeye declared once he’d swallowed, and BJ looked astonished.

“Spite you? I don't believe this!” he spluttered, not taking his eyes off Hawk. “How do you get your head through doorways with that ego? You just won't admit you couldn't handle it.”

Fury again. He turned to Potter. “You see what I've been putting up with?” 

“Do you have any idea what he's been like the last couple of days? Genghis Khan was bigger laughs,” BJ muttered scathingly.

“In your eye! Considering what I had to work with, I think I did a damn good job,” Hawkeye insisted, trying not to let BJ’s words hit too deep.

“Well, that makes one of you,” the other man quipped, and Hawkeye gripped his glass tightly.

“Oh, yeah? If you weren't so busy trying to undermine my authority--” he started, but BJ interrupted by laughing as though that was the funniest thing he’d heard in weeks. Hawkeye glared over at Potter.

“Why aren't you helping me?” he demanded. “You should be right in the middle of this. You're the commander.”

Potter nodded. “And I'm acting like one, staying out of it till I'm needed.” He sipped his own scotch. “It's all in the timing, son. There's a time to step in and a time to back off. Pull the reins too tight and the horse'll buck. You had good people under you. You should've let 'em go through their paces.” He paused, considering. “You know, this is pretty good. Someone should be writing this down.” He raised his drink. “To my golden tongue!”

Hawkeye let Potter’s words sink in. He glanced at BJ and saw that he was watching him closely. At last he relented, allowing himself to admit, “Okay, okay. Let's say I overreacted a little.”

“Let's say a lot,” Potter chimed in, to which BJ said, “Amen,” and took a drink.

“And you,” Potter went on, rounding on BJ who choked on his scotch. “Yeah! You're lucky you didn't run off when I was here, or your fanny'd be hanging from the flagpole.”

Hawkeye felt a thrill of victory chase away his anger, and then it immediately fell away as he looked at BJ. They hadn’t really looked at each other for almost a day. He sighed, taking in the sight of his best friend, with his gangly legs, strong hands, and silly mustache. It burned, but now that Potter was here to admonish them, he knew that BJ was right: he’d only done what Hawkeye would do--and in fact, had done--in the same place.

Potter’s voice broke the silence. “Well, don't sit there like a couple of moon calves,” his choice of words giving Hawkeye pause. “Drink up and shake hands already.”

He glanced over at Potter, who had a small smile across his lips. His use of “moon calves” couldn’t have been accidental. Hawkeye knew that he and BJ weren’t great at playing it straight, and Potter wasn’t an idiot. If he’d caught the two of them looking at each other, “moon calves” was a good way to sum it up.

“Do you know how ridiculous you two look?” Potter declared as they just sat there, staring at each other. “You wanna make nice?”

BJ raised an eyebrow, the one that Potter probably couldn’t see, and Hawkeye saw the suggestive glint in his eye.

“What do you say, Hawk?” he asked, voice going a little deeper than usual. He stood up, raising his glass toward him. “Want to make nice?”

There was the barest hint of hesitation before the word nice, and if Hawkeye didn’t suspect that Potter knew about them he would’ve just glared at the other man. But he did suspect, so he let himself smile, for the first time in far too many hours. He’d missed this man.

“Sure,” Hawk said, keeping the heat out of his voice. Potter might know, but no sense being too risky.

“Good,” said the colonel rising to his feet, a grin on his face again. “Now that that’s all settled, I’d better go see just how big a mess you’ve left me in. See you boys tomorrow.”

If Potter noticed that neither of the men so much as looked his way as they bid him good night, he didn’t say anything.

And then, they were alone. Two tall men standing in front of each other, clutching empty glasses.

They spoke at the same time.

“Hawk--”

“Beej--”

They broke off, Beej chuckling softly. And then the glasses were down and Hawkeye was finally where he’d wanted to be since the start of this stupid command, wrapped tightly in BJ’s arms with their lips pressed hungrily together.

When Beej broke away to trail kisses down Hawkeye’s neck, Hawk gasped, managing to say, “Beej, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I was an idiot, and I’m sorry I called you Hunnicut--”

“Shut up, idiot,” Beej growled, covering Hawkeye’s mouth with his own again. 

Hawkeye let himself be kissed, reveling in the feel of Beej’s body pressed against his, feeling the hardness that told him he wasn’t the only one who’d been missing someone. When BJ slipped a hand between them and took hold of Hawkeye through his pants, he gasped and then groaned into Beej’s mouth. It’d been, what, two days? Hardly a long time, but with the fight they’d had it felt like forever.

He started to thrust himself against BJ, wishing their clothes were off already so he could really feel BJ’s hands on his skin.

He pulled back and whispered hotly, “Where’s Charles?”

“Staying in OR tonight,” Beej whispered back, his hand gently squeezing Hawk’s cock through the fabric.

“Good,” Hawkeye said, pressing a hard kiss into BJ’s lips before dropping to his knees and grappling with the man’s trousers.

“ _ Fuck _ , Hawk,” BJ groaned, his eyes flashing as Hawkeye tugged down his pants and skivvies. When Hawkeye took Beej’s hard cock in his hand, the man moaned, eyes falling shut. Hawk allowed himself a few strokes before he took Beej into his mouth, immediately letting out a groan of pleasure at the feel of the firm yet soft skin against his tongue. He began to bob back and forth, one hand at the base of Beej’s length, twisting lightly as he lavished the cock with tongue, other hand lightly cupping the man’s balls.

BJ was starting to move with Hawkeye’s mouth, clearly wanting--needing--to fuck Hawk’s mouth but holding back. Hawkeye released his grip on Beej’s cock and moved his hand to the man’s hip, encouraging the small thrusting motions to grow stronger. With a strangled moan, Beej got the hint. He tangled one hand in Hawk’s hair and started fucking his mouth slowly, trusting Hawkeye to move with him enough to not choke himself. Hawk could feel his own hardness almost painfully, and as he continued to sit there on his knees, one hand on Beej’s hip, he dropped his other hand to his pants, clumsily pushing them down until he had a hand on himself. As he started stroking, he groaned, the combined pleasure of his hand and the increasingly guttural moans coming from the man whose cock was in his mouth bringing him to the edge that Beej was fast approaching. He could taste salt on his tongue and started sucking more as BJ gave up and put both hands in Hawk’s hair, thrusting harder and harder into his mouth as Hawk matched that pace on his own cock.

“ _ Fuck fuck fuck _ \--” The words hissed out of Beej’s mouth seconds before he was coming relentlessly, Hawkeye swallowing it all down greedily until he was moaning around the cock, and then he was coming onto the floor of the Swamp. He kept sucking, half distracted, one hand on the base of Beej’s cock and the other around himself, stroking out the last pieces of pleasure, until Beej pulled hard on Hawk’s hair, letting his softened dick flop out of the other’s mouth.

BJ collapsed to the ground in front of Hawkeye, leaning his head against Hawk’s shoulder as he panted. Hawkeye let his hands wander over Beej’s body, gently caressing his shoulders.

At length, BJ gave a shuddering sigh and mumbled something that Hawk didn’t understand.

“What’s that?” he asked quietly, running his fingers through the man’s short hair.

“I said,” BJ panted, “You should be in charge more often.”


End file.
